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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24537361">She was a taker (Cosmic hero)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wadebramwilson/pseuds/wadebramwilson'>wadebramwilson</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fantastic Newt Verse [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Asexual Character, Asexual Spectrum Newt Scamander, Asexuality, Asexuality Spectrum, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Newt Scamander, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Meltdown, Neurodivergent Newt Scamander, Sensory Overload, Touch, neurodivergent character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:35:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,039</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24537361</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wadebramwilson/pseuds/wadebramwilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt knows that for other people, touch is an essential part of communication. He thinks that it is okay to be uncomfortable for as long as it takes to help the people that he loves. Leta doesn’t realise that her touch makes Newt's skin crawl, and he's not sure how to tell her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Leta Lestrange &amp; Newt Scamander, Leta Lestrange/Newt Scamander</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fantastic Newt Verse [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768852</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>She was a taker (Cosmic hero)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a little more serious than the other works in this verse. It started very light-hearted and then deescalated, I hope that my contrary writing styles do not war too much throughout. </p><p>For those who may be worried about non-con. I do not think it is an issue, but if you have trouble with descriptions of affective touch, it might be an uncomfortable read. I have outlined the storyline so that you can decide for yourself. I wouldn't recommend reading the outline unless you would like to ruin the story a little.</p><p>Outline:<br/>In the context of a loving and mutual friendship, Leta will often hold Newt's hand and hug him. Newt does not like it but he doesn't realise that he is allowed to ask for it to stop.<br/>Leta starts to think that she might like to be more than friends with Newt. The story culminates in them sitting alone but fully clothed in Newt's dormitory. Leta asks him if he wants to kiss her. Newt does not answer. She puts one hand on his leg, and she tries to touch his cheek. Newt freaks out and Leta leaves. </p><p>I wanted to deal with the issue of consent to touch but it was important to me that neither Newt or Leta were in the wrong. Really, this is just a miscommunication between two very young people who are still figuring out what they want and need. It is an open ending.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Newt and Leta first met in <em>Defence Against the Dark Arts</em> in their first week at Hogwarts. Newt entered the classroom just a little bit after everyone else, keeping his movements quiet and deliberate. This was a strategy that he implemented often so that his seat could be chosen for him.</p><p>Leta had filed herself into the back of the room. She sat straight and sure, with a carefully cultivated air of disinterest about her. Her schoolbag was planted on the chair beside her, an invitation for her classmates to sit somewhere else.</p><p>“Hullo,” Newt greeted her, noting that she didn’t have what his mother would call ‘a friendly face’. Leta turned to acknowledge him. Her gaze dragged slowly over his body from top to bottom. She took in the leaves caught in his red hair, the binoculars around his neck, and the grass stains on the knees of his robes. Her dark eyes finally settled on his muddy boots before she turned back to the front of the class.</p><p>“Hi,” she said, like a door closing.</p><p>By their fourth week, most of the students had figured out who their friends were. They would pair or group themselves before they had even entered the classrooms, drawn to familiar faces and places. Newt was reminded of Mooncalves following the pull and flow of the moon. Without it, they followed their herd. Creatures of a pattern. </p><p>Newt found that he almost always sat with someone new. He was like an extra part that was kept just in case, but one that mostly lived in a drawer.</p><p>The exception to this was in <em>Defence Against the Dark Arts </em>with the Slytherins. The other half of Leta’s desk was always empty, but for him.</p><p>Leta, like Newt, didn’t seem to have made any friends yet.</p><p>And Leta, like Newt, didn’t seem to care.</p><p>--</p><p>The idea that school was a place for friendships was one that Leta had nurtured for the first half-hour of her journey on the Hogwarts Express, and then discarded completely thereafter.</p><p>She’d heard the way the other students whispered her name when she passed them in the corridor, seen the way they walked closer to the walls as though she might hex them just for looking at her.</p><p>If people were going to make assumptions about her, she was going to give them something to talk about. Her father had not taught her many things, but his most important lesson was not to show weakness. Showing your underbelly was like presenting your enemy with a weapon and turning your back on them.</p><p>The first person to try to make fun of her had been met with a stinging hex and after that, no one had dared to try it again. Not within her earshot, at least.</p><p>So when Newt Scamander had walked right up to her desk and said hello to her as though he’d never even heard of her family, she thought it must have been a cruel prank.</p><p>But Newt didn’t look like the kind of person who was very aware of other people, or of himself for that matter. He looked like he’d crawled out of the garden and walked through a marsh on his way to class. She was not going to be intimidated by a boy like that, especially one that couldn’t even meet her eyes properly.</p><p>When she finally conceded and moved her bag for him to sit down beside her, Newt tucked his chair right up next to her like he’d never heard of personal space before.</p><p>It was as though someone had given Newt a book on how to be a human and sent him out into the world without checking to see if he could read it. He spent most of the lesson daydreaming or making stupid drawings in his notebook. When he spoke, he would go on and on about creatures that she had never heard of, creatures that she was sure he had made up. It was hard to get Newt to stop talking, and it was harder to get him to start again once he finally did.</p><p>He was disorganised, messy, and always arrived late to class. Newt was able to imitate their teacher’s wand movements perfectly, he was precise and measured like he had been doing it his whole life. But he would stumble over his incantations, and sometimes he wouldn’t say the words aloud at all. His magic didn’t seem to suffer for the latter.</p><p>Newt had a quick, warm smile that he gave frequently but fleetingly. He didn’t meet people’s eyes when he spoke to them, but it wasn’t out of fear.</p><p>Against her better judgement, Leta found that she quite liked him.</p><p>--</p><p>Through the entirety of their first year, they were paired together in every Slytherin/Hufflepuff class mix, but neither one would have called the other their friend.</p><p>Newt was accustomed to observing other people to learn how they communicate. Everyone behaved differently, it was, Newt thought, the bane of his existence. </p><p>To people that didn’t know him well, Newt had been told that he seemed rude and annoying. So, he didn’t let it bother him when Leta didn’t say please or thank you when she asked him to pass things to her, or if she was abrupt when correcting his incantations, or that she never let him borrow her spare quill. She was aloof, maybe even harsh, but that was just Leta.</p><p>If Newt knew anything, it was that everybody was on their own journey, and they would all arrive differently. Leta’s way of interacting with the world, like his, was unique.</p><p>And maybe she had laughed a little too exuberantly when they’d been practising knockback jinxes and she’d accidentally hit <em>him</em> instead of their dummy. But to be fair, she was not the only person who had laughed. It must have been pretty funny to watch, and it hadn't really hurt that much. Leta had helped him up off of the floor and apologised around her giggles. It was easy for Newt to tie the ends of his thoughts together and forgive her.</p><p>It wasn’t until halfway through their second year that Newt noticed that Leta always sat by herself outside of class too.</p><p>One Autumn day when he’d been hurrying out of the Great Hall, stomach full after bolting down an early lunch, he had caught the sight of her thick brown hair sitting alone at the end of the Slytherin table. He wouldn’t normally have stopped or said anything, but something about her rigid posture today gave him pause.</p><p>She sat staring determinately at her plate, face set hard in anger, mood coiled like a spring. Newt couldn’t have walked past her, looking like she was, without trying to speak to her. As he approached, he noticed that her knuckles were white around her fork, and he briefly considered the possibility that she would stab him with it.</p><p>“Hullo Leta,” he’d said, sitting down across from her.</p><p>“What do you want, Scamander?” She said, anger colouring her words.</p><p>“Oh, I just thought you might like some co- Ah!” Newt was cut off when something soft but firm hit him square in the side of the head. He looked around, taking in the splashes of roast vegetables around Leta, and realised what it must have been that had made her angry.</p><p>It seemed that he too was decidedly unwelcome at the Slytherin table.</p><p>A snort of laughter broke through Leta’s anger. Newt looked at her again, catching her eyes for the short time it took him to return her smile.</p><p>Newt called down the Slytherin table in the vague direction of the food-thrower, “That’s really not funny, you know!” and started to pick the remnants of roast potato out of his hair.</p><p>Another potato sailed through the air and landed directly in Leta’s glass of pumpkin juice, splashing it up over her robes. She gasped and stood up suddenly.</p><p>“Oh bugger,” Newt empathised. But Leta did not look angry, though her eyes glinted dangerously. Instead, she wore a diabolical smirk, face set with determination.</p><p>Newt was sitting very alert, waiting for something to happen. Leta looked him in the eye and mouthed the word <em>‘Run’</em> at him before turning to her fellow Slytherins.</p><p>He didn’t need to be told twice.</p><p>“<em>Flipendo Totalus</em>”, Leta cried, pointing her wand straight down the middle of the long table. There was a loud bang and a series of clatters. All along the table, full dishes and pitchers flipped and upended themselves like dominos. The Slytherins were showered with a great rolling wave of food and drink.</p><p>Already hurrying out of the room, Newt thought briefly that there was no way she could have missed the potato-thrower. He heard her quick footfalls and laughter behind him as he sprinted out into the grounds. He kept running, chest heaving. Newt pumped his muscles as fast as they would carry him. He ran straight into the forest, knowing that few would try to follow them.</p><p>Leta barrelled into him, laughing uproariously. Her eyes were alight with mirth. Newt could feel himself smiling too.</p><p>Looking back, that was the first moment that he looked at Leta and recognised her as his friend.</p><p>--</p><p>After that day Leta found herself seeking out Newt's company more and more, which was easy because he spent so much of his time alone. She <em>saved</em> him a seat in class now, it wasn’t much of a distinction from before, but she could tell that he noticed the difference because he stopped coming to class late. </p><p>Newt wasn't concerned about house points, and Quidditch and blood. He didn't like to study things that he didn't think were interesting or useful. He didn't even like talking about their peers, but he listened to her when she needed him to. Newt saw things differently to how other people did, as though he was wearing both rose-tinted glasses and blinders at the same time. His worldview made other people seem both simple and needlessly complex. </p><p>Newt seemed to know himself so well that he was convinced he didn't know anyone else. </p><p>Most of the time, they went exploring together, and Newt came alive with the opportunity to share his world with someone else. </p><p>Leta always felt nervous around the lake. Newt didn't ask why, but he seemed to realise that she was afraid of the water. Maybe he just thought she didn't know how to swim. He couldn't know that the idea of the lake's blackened depths, still as they were, made her think of cloth billowing around a tiny dead body. Made her think of it sinking like a stone, ate her up with grief and guilt.</p><p>He still tried to convince her to dip her toes into the places where the water was clear and the algae was at its thinnest. Even in the summer, when the hot sun on her back made her skin sweat and her nose burn, she kept clear of the water's edge. But it was nice to sit in the shade and watch the light glinting off the lake like so many jewels. </p><p>She was content to borrow his binoculars to try and catch a glimpse of the giant squid while Newt splashed around and made the strangest, most inhuman noises, in an attempt to lure it from the water's depths. He never pushed her to join him.</p><p>--</p><p>Newt had been excited to show Leta the Chizpurtle nest that he had found in the shadow of a Myrtle tree on the lake’s edge. It took him a while to locate a nearby pipe that looked as though it was draining from the castle. It was purging a strange viscous fluid into the lake and Newt imagined that students had been emptying failed potions into the pipemouth for the Chizpurtles to feed on. When he told her his theory, she seemed almost as excited as he was. She giggled when he showed her how the crab-like creatures crowded around him when he cast <em>Lumos</em> in their direction. </p><p>Watching Leta discover things seemed to light her whole face up with awe, and Newt was so grateful that he was the person who could give her that feeling. When Leta became too trapped by the thoughts in her own head, it was nice to be the person who could show her where the light was. </p><p>One day, she convinced him to take off his shoes and socks and wade out into the lake to investigate what he had sworn up and down was a Dugbog. He hadn't really needed much convincing, but she had told him to 'prove it' and Newt, well, he needed to. It had turned out to only be a submerged log. The rolled-up cuffs of his trousers were muddy with lake water when he had emerged, dripping and disappointed, but glad all the same that he had gone to investigate. </p><p>Or he had been glad, until he realised that Leta had disappeared, along with his shoes and socks. Newt had had to go to his afternoon<em>Transfiguration </em>class barefoot and mud-splattered. Professor Dumbledore charmed Newt's robes clean for him and transfigured him some slippers out of teacups, a spell that made Newt wish that he paid more attention in class. He'd always liked Professor Dumbledore.</p><p>Of course, Dumbledore had asked him what had happened to his shoes, but Newt didn't want to get Leta into trouble, so he just said that he lost them. He knew it wasn't wholly out of character for him, but he wasn't sure if Dumbledore believed him or not. </p><p>Newt couldn't understand why a friend would try to embarrass him like that, but it felt like a private thing to consider. Thoughts gnawed at his stomach for the rest of the afternoon, leaving him feeling hollow and alone. </p><p>Leta visited his common room later that night when he had been sitting, scribbling notes by a large copper-potted pothos. He had leapt out of his skin when Stephanie Farrington had tapped him on the shoulder to tell him that 'that horrible Slytherin girl' was at the door to see him. Newt had thought that he might melt right into the potplant with the strength of his desire to disappear completely. </p><p>When he screwed up his courage to approach the common room entrance, Leta was standing guiltily with her head down, peering up at him through dark eyelashes. Her face was framed by thick, curly hair. He was sure that his boots in her hands looked an awful lot cleaner than they had been that morning.</p><p>"I'm sorry Newt," she began, "I didn't think you'd go to class without them."</p><p>He frowned in confusion, and spoke through the tightness in his throat, "How else was I supposed to go to class?"</p><p>“Well, I actually levitated them into the willow tree," she blushed. "I really thought you would find them."</p><p>And all of a sudden, Newt felt beyond stupid. More than that, he felt horrible for thinking for a second that Leta would have done anything to hurt him at all. “It’s okay," he said thickly, "That was silly of me, I shouldn't- I. I'm sorry Leta."</p><p>Leta leaned in and hugged her body to his, trapping his arms at his sides and letting his shoes clatter to the floor as she dropped them. It seemed as though she too, had been afraid.</p><p>Newt let himself be held. He kept his arms straight and tried to appreciate this new dynamic. When she finally let him go, he made sure to smile and wiggle his toes at her, “You know I like being barefoot better anyway.”</p><p>--</p><p>Leta thought the owlery was a bit of a waste of time. She wasn’t a fan of the cold and biting wind, wasn’t very impressed by birds, and never had cause to send any post. She didn’t like to be reminded of home.</p><p>“Also,” she laughed, “<em>I</em> don’t like going to class covered in owl droppings!”</p><p>“That was only one time!” Newt blushed.</p><p>“One time that anyone told you about!” She punched him in the arm affectionately.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p>Leta’s favourite place to go with Newt was the forest. He was comfortable there like she had seen him nowhere else; it was his second home. The minute he stepped past the tree line the forest seemed to change him. Leta thought he looked like he was shedding someone else’s skin.</p><p>Leta could nearly pinpoint the moment when the muscles in his shoulders would let go, and his breaths would turn calmer and deeper. She noticed the way he held his head a little higher, even as he grew taller every day.</p><p>He took her to all the safest parts of the forest, making sure that she could find the landmarks that the Centaurs had asked him not to venture past. He showed her other places that were better to avoid, like a particularly active Doxie nest that he had accidentally walked into on more than one occasion.</p><p>Newt made her lie with him for a whole hour in the damp detritus of the forest floor waiting for the Clabberts that he had sworn would show themselves eventually. He’d lain on his back looking up at the canopy, red light filtering down to cast patterns over his face. His forearms, relaxed behind his head, had grown sinewy with all the swimming and climbing he got up to.</p><p>When the Clabberts finally came out of hiding, Leta had leapt up and run right at their tree to shake it. She wanted Newt to be able to see their pustules light up red and brilliant like so many Christmas lights.</p><p>“You didn’t have to do that,” Newt worried, “you really scared them!”</p><p>“That was the point, Newt. I didn’t hurt them though, did I?" She crossed her arms, "and now you’ll be able to write about it in your notebook.”</p><p>Newt smiled down at her shoes, “Okay,” he said, “but next time, you can’t just run up to all the magical creatures like that to see what they do when they feel threatened.” His eyes flicked up to hers, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”</p><p>“I’m not <em>stupid</em>.” Leta pouted at him, “they’re Clabberts, not Hippogriffs.”</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p>It took a long time before Newt wrote to Theseus about his friendship with Leta. It felt silly to think about, but he had needed to be certain that they were friends before he confided in his brother.</p><p>In his reply, Theseus was cautious:</p><p>
  <em>‘…That’s really good Bug. I’m proud of you. I know it’s not always easy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Please be careful though. The Lestrange family are not known for being friendly for the sake of friendship. I hope you’re right and she really does care about you the way you say. But just in case, keep your guard up. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I don’t want to see you getting hurt…’</em>
</p><p>After so many years of telling Newt that he just needed to open up to people, this response kind of stung. Newt destroyed the note. He didn’t think that Leta would like the words if she found it.</p><p>Newt wasn’t usually aware of gossip and rumours. He wasn’t particularly interested in social happenings, and so people learnt not to try to talk to him about them. He could usually sense the dynamics between people well enough through their body language to avoid getting himself into too much trouble. Even so, it was obvious that the other students did not like Leta. Even a few Hufflepuffs had taken Newt aside and whispered to him that he should be careful spending so much time with a Lestrange.</p><p>He tried not to let it upset him, because he wanted Leta to know that he didn’t care. Newt was not the kind of person who made up his mind about anything without doing research, and the only way he knew to research who a person really was, was to spend time with them. Seeing as no one else seemed to spend much time with Leta, Newt figured that he was an expert by comparison. Still, it was hard not to be upset when the words came from Theseus.</p><p>Leta was his best friend. She liked all the same things as he did. She was brave and clever and mischievous. Being with her made him feel happy, truly it did. He knew that Leta felt the same way about him because he had never seen her smile with anyone the way that she did when they were alone together. She made him laugh a lot, and he did his best to listen to all of her worries, though it took her a long time before she told him anything real.</p><p>Whenever the talked about her family, she would cry. Leta’s tears were hot, angry and silent. She would get so overwhelmed that she shook with sadness and rage.</p><p>Unlike Theseus, she didn’t like to be comforted by a hug. Newt learnt that Leta just needed him to sit close to her and listen. When she was ready, she liked to be distracted from her own thoughts. This came easy to Newt. He took her on adventures and told her stories until she could escape the pain of her memories.</p><p>And sure, maybe she wasn’t always what his dad would call ‘a good influence’. Newt found himself with a lot more detentions now that Leta was his friend, and he spent a lot less time in class than he used to. His grades, also, could probably have used a bit of work. But time was a finite resource, and it was important to allocate your time according to your priorities. Newt was just so grateful that there was a person in the world who had chosen him as a priority. It only made sense to return that.</p><p>--</p><p>Leta wasn't always kind to Newt. At certain times of the year, or when she was feeling particularly cornered, the anger that she carried would sharpen to such a razor edge that she just couldn’t hold it inside anymore. When this happened, it would burst forth from her in the shape of cruelty. And Newt, well, he was the person who was usually there to bear it.</p><p>It enraged her that he made things so much harder for himself. She thought that it would be so easy for him to stop behaving weird all the time. If only he would just act like a normal person for a change.</p><p>People <em>liked</em> Newt, even if he refused to see it. Or at least, nobody hated him the way they hated her.</p><p>Leta had been branded a pariah on the day that her name had been read out for the whole school to hear at the sorting ceremony. She’d been tarnished by a history that she had no control over and could not escape from. She had never had a choice but to live up to her name.</p><p>The problem with Newt was that she couldn’t seem to hurt him, even when she tried to. He didn’t mind if she dug her nails in every once in a while. Her harshness was met with patience and care. He never asked what made her so full of anger, never made assumptions, never forced her to explain herself. He just gave her time and space until she felt guilty enough to say sorry for whatever she’d said or done to hurt him.</p><p>Newt never wanted her to apologise, he never needed it. His feelings didn’t change towards her, not even when she knew she deserved his ire.</p><p>--</p><p>Newt knew that Leta didn’t weather her world of loneliness and mistrust as well as she wanted other people to think she did. On the surface, she was disengaged from it, cordoned off. She bled herself dry so she could pretend that she didn’t bruise.</p><p>Leta reminded him of a Hippogriff, proud and brave. If you respected her, she would return it. But sometimes even the kindest Hippogriff just didn’t feel like bowing, even for those it trusted. Even the most well-mannered would snap if you ruffled their feathers. It wasn’t something that could be forced.  </p><p>No one chose to spend time with people that they didn’t care about, and Leta always wanted to spend time with Newt. She was the kind of person who didn’t always know her own heart or how to express it, and that was okay.</p><p>Newt, on the other hand, was sure that he loved Leta.</p><p>Sometimes, she would hold his hand. This wasn’t a sensation that Newt particularly liked. He practised suppressing the urge to wince and withdraw. He tried to keep his hands in his pockets, or busy holding something when Leta was around. When her fingers entwined with his, he tried to cut his thoughts off from his body. Something about another person taking his hand in theirs made him feel like an important part of him had been breached.</p><p>She also liked to hug him. She would sometimes sit so close that he could feel her skin pricking up his pores. It was an itchy, uncomfortable feeling for Newt, but he appreciated the thought behind it. He wanted Leta to know that she was welcome, and she was loved.</p><p>Theseus was a hugger too. All of Newt’s favourite people were. It wasn’t something that they seemed to be able to control, and it didn’t usually last for too long, especially if he made sure to smile or give a little squeeze in return. He knew that Leta struggled with her words and touch was how she let him know that she cared. So Newt learnt how to surrender to her so that she knew he felt the same way.</p><p>But the hugs were becoming longer and more frequent. If they sat together now, Leta would run her hands lightly across his arm, like so many spines bristling along his flesh, agonisingly slow. She would brush light fingers through his hair, leaving prickles and barbs in her wake with how gentle she was. It seemed as though she did it more every day.</p><p>Newt wasn’t stupid. Theseus had talked enough about the girls that he went on dates with, the girls that he brought home. Newt knew how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to crave Leta’s touch, to want to feel every bit of her skin that he could reach, he was supposed to lean his body towards hers when she spoke. He ought to want to kiss her.</p><p>He wondered if this was something that had been filling up for months, like a steady drip, or had it all flooded in at once? Was it too late to find the leak and plug it?</p><p>He loved her like he had loved no one else. But no matter how hard he tried, Newt just couldn’t shake the heavy feeling that flooded through him when her fingers bushed his bare skin. The creeping sickness that overcame him when he thought about what that kind of touch could mean.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p>Leta wasn’t sure what it meant to be loved, but she knew that Newt loved her. Even before he had said it, he had always taken care to let her know.</p><p>She wanted him to know what he meant to her. How strange it was to have him look at her as though he were seeing straight into her heart and only seeing the good there. Someone who wasn’t waiting for her to do something wrong, who wasn’t afraid of who she was or who she might become.</p><p>Newt was patient and kind. He maintained no pretences. He was the truest person she had ever known. She didn’t have words to communicate all that she felt for him. Every time she tried; the sounds would dry upon her tongue, and her eyes would sting with the threat of tears.</p><p>So she would take his hand instead, feeling the way his skin jumped just the tiniest bit at her touch even when he saw her reach out. She sensed the way he reacted to her, she experienced the thrumming energy from his body, the tension. She felt this and saw her own feelings mirrored back.</p><p>It was such an alien feeling for Leta, to be loved so unconditionally.</p><p>--</p><p>Newt did not like it when Leta wanted to spend time in his dormitory. There was something different between them when they were alone in a place like this. Something that seemed to take up space, hanging heavy and damp in the air.</p><p>It made him feel guilty to think it, but Newt sometimes wished that the Hufflepuff common room had a password as the other houses did. That way he could forget to tell her the new one, for a little while at least.</p><p>Even more so, he wished that the boy’s dormitories didn’t let girls enter. Having Leta here was pulling slowly at a thread that was undoing him a little more each time. He didn’t think it was fair that Hogwarts thought it was okay for boys to have their privacy invaded when girls were safe. He didn’t think it was fair that Leta didn’t have any choice but to try this here.</p><p>It was a miserable-looking day. The sky was gunmetal grey, the clouds just a shade darker than the sky. Despite this, there was a yellowish glow to it that gave the room a gloomy, pulsating feel.</p><p>Newt was sitting on the edge of his wooden bedstead, feet planted solidly on the floor. He had been playing with his Kneazle, Bunny, while Leta sat behind him on his bed. She was stretched out languidly, comfortable and relaxed as she chatted to him.</p><p>Bunny perched herself on his lap, a calm, reassuring presence. Her heavy weight was comforting as he ran his fingers through her rough fur. Leta paused her conversation and it took Newt a little longer than he meant to notice it.</p><p>She moved towards him, sitting up and leaning her body against Newt’s back as though she were interested in Bunny too. He wasn’t sure if she knew how closely her chest was pressed to his back, wasn’t sure if she knew that he could feel each breath as she drew it in and out.</p><p>Leta let her chin come to rest on his shoulder and tilted her head to smile up at him. He always thought that she had a lovely, kind smile when it was just the two of them.</p><p>Newt kept his calloused fingers busy in Bunny’s fur. Trying to focus on the coarse texture of it, the warmth.</p><p>“Are you okay, Newt?”</p><p>He hummed, internally counting the strokes he made through Bunny’s golden coat, “Yes, I think so.”</p><p>“Do you… not want me to be here?” Leta looked down and away from him as she blushed.</p><p>“No, I- what makes you t-think that?” Newt stammered, turning to face her better, “I like being with you.”</p><p>The movement jostled Bunny from his lap and he felt suddenly untethered.</p><p>Leta shrugged and moved herself around to sit beside him on the bed. She placed one palm just barely onto the top of his thigh.</p><p>It was as though Newt’s whole world was pulled into that point of contact. This was not the first time that Leta had touched him this way, and just like every other time, he was not sure how it was supposed to feel.</p><p>He kept his eyes fixed on her hand. Wishing she would either let go or make her grip firm and consistent. He couldn’t stand that gentle caress, like a whisper on the back of his neck without permission.</p><p>“Newt,” she said softly, “would you like to kiss me?”</p><p>The question did not take Newt by surprise, but he felt himself pull in a sharp breath of air all the same. He felt Leta notice it too, but she didn't move away from him. She kept her hand on his leg, dragging her fingertips just slightly. Even through his robes, it was a visceral feeling like pins pulling along bare skin.</p><p>Newt was frozen by her gentle, unrelenting touch.</p><p>Leta was not content with his non-answer, she encroached a little more on him, moving the hand that she had kept on the bed up to his face. He almost didn’t see it coming, gaze frozen as it was on the fingers of her other hand.</p><p>The moment that her soft skin made contact with his face, something unconscious and animal shot through Newt’s whole body. He felt every one of his nerves light up, his tensed muscles seemed to spasm awake. His body felt completely out of his control.</p><p>He stood up suddenly, pulling himself fully away. Away from Leta who now sat alone with her hand still outstretched. He clapped his palms around his own elbows, breathing hard.</p><p>Leta’s mouth was open just slightly, pupils wide and brows high. The surprise was there for only a flickering moment before it was replaced by anger. Newt hated to look at her face in this moment.</p><p>He took another step back and released his own arms, changed his mind, and hugged his body again. He pulled in another long, shuddering breath.</p><p>“I-” he tried.</p><p>Leta stood too. It wasn’t hatred that he saw in her face now, though she was trying her best to make it look like it. Her eyes were shinning, brows pinched. She was hurt.</p><p>“I- ‘m-mm," Newt's tongue felt thick, "sorry. L-Leta I-”</p><p>She pushed past him, sending him reeling back again. Newt saw for only a moment the angry tears that were streaming paths down her brown cheeks before he closed his eyes against it. As she ran from the room, she slammed the door in her wake. The noise felt deafening.</p><p>He wanted to go after her,<em> knew</em> that he ought to, but the last push of her body past his had caused his senses to light up again like Fiendfyre. He sunk to the floor.</p><p>His skin burned. He felt sick to his stomach. His mouth was wet as though he were about to throw up- no.</p><p>His stomach contracted and he tasted bile. He couldn’t stop coughing, couldn’t stop feeling. He pushed himself into the corner of the room and closed his eyes as tight as he could. Every deep, quick inhale that he took smelt of vomit. He kept his hands clapped tightly over his ears, body rocking back and forth and he cried and cried and cried.</p><p>He thought he would have kept crying until the other third years came up for dinner. But then, blindly, he felt Bunny approach him. She let him card shaking fingers through her coat before leaping up to nestle herself on the top of his back. She kneaded at him, and he focused on the rhythmic movements of her heavy paws atop his back. Newt felt his mind slowly coming back to the room, anchored by her warm weight.</p><p>Eventually, he was able to clean himself up. Newt didn’t go to the rest of his classes that day. He didn’t go to the Great Hall for dinner. He stayed in his dormitory and pretended to be sick.</p><p>He wished that Leta was still there with him so that he could apologise to her properly, so that he could explain the feelings that he didn’t even understand himself.</p><p>For a moment, he wished that he would never have to see her again, that he had never known her at all. He discarded those thoughts as soon as they had come.</p><p>Most of all, Newt wished that there was a way for him to force his flesh to yield to her, a way that he could be the person that she needed. He wished that he could say to her, <em>I love you, but I can’t stand your touch</em>, without it breaking her heart. </p><p>He would find a way. As soon as he understood what he was feeling, then he would be able to explain it to her. It was going to be okay. Everything would go back to normal. They were both going to be okay. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading. Any feedback is welcome. As usual, this is unbetad and as usual, I'd like to change that.<br/>I haven't decided yet where Newt sits on the Ace spectrum, but I don't think he is Aromantic. Does anyone have any opinions or feelings on the issue?<br/>Kudos and comments sustain me.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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